


cap_ironman: 616 fic: falling on a grenade

by ballpoint



Category: Marvel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-24
Updated: 2009-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve stumbles on Tony's secret feelings, but cannot return them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cap_ironman: 616 fic: falling on a grenade

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes**: For empty_splendor, who asks the following:'I want to see a story where Tony drops the L bomb and Steve is like "Homey, I don't play dat" I mean, Tony's like weak in a moment of "almost died to save Steve" again, and he lets it slip... and Steve's like... "nope, not gay, well bye"I just think it would be more... real. Because to be honest, a guy like Steve wouldn't be down right away. You know? I think we're too happy with them. Tony I can see as Bisexual, Steve would definitely need coaxing because he's a guy of the 40s... even 616 Steve grew up knowing gay is not okay.' This one's for you. I hope you like it. Approx 3,700 words  
> Time line mid 90s. Thanks to [](http://jwaneeta.livejournal.com/profile)[**jwaneeta**](http://jwaneeta.livejournal.com/) for much needed insight.
> 
> Reference text: _Avengers: The Ultimate Guide_, DeFalco, T (2005). DK publishing; London.  
> **Team notes**: This is back when they were still 'Mighty' Avengers. I'm playing fast and loose with the team roster. Forgive.

"Avengers, look sharp!"

At Captain America's command, the Avengers scattered, Ironman taking to the air, scanning the action below.

From his scanning feeds, Ironman counted at least twenty mecha - over-sized humanoid robots about ten metres high and weighing approximately half a ton.

The mecha were stomping around, firing repsulor lasers everywhere, and it took all of Tony's skill just to stay ahead.

"Wow, gigantor's got friends." Ironman quipped, doing a sharp nose dive as he avoided just being singed.

Fortunately, this part of Nevada was relatively deserted: a sprawling vista of dessert, the odd tumble weed bouncing across the horizon - but Las Vegas was one hundred kilometres away, and they were called in to put down the robots -- _hard_ before Joe citizen saw them - and they wouldn't be the Pentagon's top secret gone awry - as much as the Pentagon's top secret project gone FUBAR'd.

"Doesn't this stuff normally happen on the X-men's watch?" Hawkeye yelled, taking out two mecha with his trick arrows by aiming for the joint between neck and shoulder.

It was the heat of battle, the Scarlet Witch throwing hexes at the mecha with unerring accuracy and deadly aim, causing two of them to crash into each other, causing the ground to shake as they crumbled to the ground with an almighty din.

The Vision swerved, zig zaging in flight, solidifying in key parts of their bodies, stopping a mecha in its tracks.

Ironman darted between the robot's legs, repulsors firing away at the extensor mechanism of the knee joint, causing a mecha to crash to the ground, taking two of his companions with it. Quickly ironman tacked to the right, veering enough to get away from the boom and shock waves of the blast.

"No," Vision said, his voice a presence in Tony's ear, due to their radio link. "These are not sentinels, Hawkeye. Just mecha. Their programmes are slightly altered, as well as -"

One having Captain America in its sights.

The pseudo sentinel extended an arm and opened its palm.

The pressure per square inch from that shot would be immense, and if the pulse of energy hit Steve, he'd be nothing but a smear of red and blue mail unless-

Decision made, Tony sharply veered to the right, feeling his armour protesting at the shock of sudden g forces, but Tony ignored it,focusing on distance covered -

_600 metres, six seconds_.

Target sighted, target engaged.

Tony had studied enough of the mecha specs on the way over to know what was coming next. The swirl of metal opening, calculation from sight to engagement, 97 seconds.

Thought tied to action as Tony moved.

_Not enough time to get Steve away. If he were just shielded, it might- _

The sharp punch of pain at the base of Tony's spine, reverberating through his entire body, sensory synapses on overload and -

Before Tony went under, he dimly heard himself scream.

Blackness.

"Ironman!"

A blur of blue, fuzzy points of white.

"Tony."

Voice distant. Faint vibrations on a piece of string, echoes in a tin can.

"Steve."

"Tony." The voice was nearer now, a jiggle as his vision shifted, his face plate raised and there he was; eyes a crisp, arctic blue, a blue so striking Pantone had yet to claim a name for it.

 

"Tony," Steve said, willing his voice to be calm, as if it were just another day at the Avengers training room. Just a training scenario gone awry. His eyes automatically scanned Tony's face, checking his pupils, noting his split lip, bleeding and his general daze.

"_There_ you are. You're okay." Tony said, his eyes locked on Steve, with such _intensity_, for a moment, Steve was unable to do anything but return his stare. The emotion in Tony's eyes was naked, and raw.

The face that normally gave nothing away unless Tony wanted it to, the emotions that he was master of now unbridled, and striking in its tremor.

"Yeah, I am. " Steve smiled for Tony's benefit, surreptitiously gesturing the others to stay back, to secure the battleground. They first had to secure the area before looking to their own, but Tony was down, and Steve was here. "I'm okay."

"Look at you," Tony almost crooned, and Steve knew that he was drunk from shock, soon to be edging into pain once the stupor wore off.

"We're okay, it's okay. You did well." Steve placed his hand on Tony's chest plate, splaying his fingers to keep Tony from moving. He noted the scorch marks and the dents on the armour. It saved him - them - again.

"Keep still, help is on the way. Talk to me shellhead." It was just another way of keeping Tony calm, as well as conscious. He did not know if Tony had a concussion, and the best thing right now was to keep him talking.

"I shouldn't say it, " Tony continued, as if Steve had not spoken, trying to raise his hand, but Steve reached over and held it down, motioning Tony to stay still. "I- to say it . Burst the bubble. Shatter the... " at this Tony hesitated, as if he lost his train of thought, before continuing, " but I do. I-"

"Tony-"

"I do. I - so much. I'm sorry for not saying it before. I'm so sorry and -"

"Don't think about it," Steve said, motioning for Vision to come over. "Think of something else, like security for the Avengers mansion. It's almost time, remember?"

"Upgrades," Tony's smile was loopy, almost sweet. "I can do that in my sleep. Ste-"

A flutter of eyelashes, and Tony went under.

Flat lined.

Died for ten seconds, before the Vision phrased in and brutally squeezed his heart to life again.

Then they transferred him to the Avengers' infirmary.

##########

 

That's where Steve found him a few hours later, hooked up to an IV. The EKG monitoring the steady, uninterrupted thrum of Tony's heart.

Tony was sleeping soundly, Steve noted. The bleeding had been from a cut in his mouth, and not internal bleeding, thank goodness. But Tony had not escaped unscathed: a few bruised ribs, a sprained wrist and a slight concussion.

By this time, Steve had changed out of uniform into soft clothing. Comfortable grey sweater, jeans and soft shoes. Right now, his hands were jammed into the pockets of his jeans, as he stared at Tony's still form as he wondered, _What the heck happened back there_?

Taking a breath, Steve felt himself calm, and doggedly went over the events leading up to now.

 

The Avengers had been called to the scene in upper state NY, and a government liaison named Dwayne Freeman sketched a quick outline of their mission as they neared the destination in the Quinjet.

"We need to put this to bed quickly, Avengers. The last thing we need is the media getting a whiff of this activity. It would undermine National Security interests." Freeman finished.

"Wait a cotton picking min-" Clint exploded. "Your pet robots get away from you and we're called to clean it up? To cover _your_ asses?"

"Not now, Clint." Steve said, voice firm. "Not now."

Steve heard Clint's foul mouthed mutterings, and made a note to speak to him later.

Then a breath as they decamped from the plane, Steve shouting orders.

Moving, swinging his shield, his body alert to every nuance. Of course, when fighting multitudes of mecha, your eyes couldn't rest on everything. Take in everything. In the din of war, it was hard to differentiate noise. One's perceptions of surroundings constantly flickered. The action would be a blur, then a split second of an odd freeze frame, before it blurred again. This was why the Avengers trained as a unit, each team member watching the other's six, while knowing his own role.

Steve had been covering for Wanda, only to leave his back open.

Only for Ironman to cover him.

Despite it being five hours later, Steve could still feel the rumble of the ground beneath his feet, the fine hairs on the nape of his neck standing up to attention. Reflexively, he spun around, shield up, posture on the defensive. Seeing the swirl of metal as it cleared for fire, an almost inaudible 'blip' as it locked in on Steve as its target.

_This might be it-_

Steeling himself not to jump out of the way of the beam until the last moment. Then a familiar shaped shadow, from the corner of his eye -

-a familiar weight

The load of Ironman's armour on him, the scorch of air around them.

Ironman took the knock for Captain America, as he did most times. Got knocked out. Another matter of course.

_I shouldn't say it... there you are... look at you_.

 

Steve blinked, and refocused on where he was, right now.

The infirmary sub level below the mansion.

One's initial impressions were cleanliness - ultra white sheets and aluminium sheen of furniture. Standard hospital equipment. Lights bright enough for a feeling of simulated sunshine, but soft enough to avoid glare.

Three beds. Each bed adjustable, with standard hospital equipment such as EKGs and IV's to hand. Rails and curtains drawn, just in case privacy was needed. There was a small steel square beside the bed, doubling as a night table and chest of drawers. On its surface a bottle of water, cups and a container of straws.

Only one patient in this good sized room this time, plus a visitor who stared at his sleeping form, as if the answer could be found in his still features.

Steve always knew that Tony had ...secrets that he jealously guarded.

Oh, the media might have chronicled, rumoured and speculated about his love life, but no one really knew what was in Tony's heart. He was that rare person who had a solid poker face, no visible tells - not even to his nearest and dearest.

_I- to say it, would burst the bubble... I -_

Tony Stark - at this Steve's mind skittered before he finished that thought. Men didn't, not with- no. Wait. Steve had known Arnie Roth, and Arnie's orientation made him no less of a person.

But Tony being-? that was something that came out of left field. Steve _had_ heard rumours, of Tony's attentions not being limited to women. That actor - something Hellrung for instance. Back when Tony spent a lot of time attending to business interests in California, but Steve had dismissed the breathless and scandalised rumours out of hand.

Chalked it up to an attribute of overzealous press coverage.

Steve sighed, pinching the area between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. When it came to Tony Stark, there was always something.

Weary with the thought, Steve grabbed a nearby chair, and dragged it beside Tony's bed before lowering himself into it, just in time to see Tony stir.

"Ugh," Tony rasped, trying to move his arm, to shield his eyes.

"Easy, Tony." Steve said, laying his hand on Tony's forearm. "You'll rip out the IV if you're not careful."

"Water." Tony croaked, still groggy, and Steve moved to help him, feeling the heat of Tony's body through the thin convalescing gown. Steve went through the motions, gingerly touching Tony, and trying not to more than necessary.

Between them, and the controls of the adjustable bed, they got Tony mostly sitting up, sucking water through the straw.

"Not too much now, you'll get sick."

"Which grenade did I fall on? Again?"

"Mecha. Repulsor blow."

"Oh, _that_," Tony said, his voice worryingly matter of fact as he pushed at Steve's hand. Steve took the cup and its straw away, and placed it on the table. "The armour?"

"Jarvis arranged for the pieces to be transported to your Armoury."

"That's good."

A lull after this, with Steve watching Tony, noting that his eyes were banked, cool. His face still a bit vulnerable in terms of being unable to hide his discomfort and grogginess. There was none of the naked emotion this time around, just fatigue. Tony was in bed, his hands - long and nimble fingers linked together across his chest. Steve was sat there, in an expensive upgrade from a standard hospital chair. Not plastic, more metal with cushioned seat and backing.

"About the mecha-"

"In the field-"

They both began at once, and paused as their words bumped and tangled into each other. The tones might have been a bit tense even. Steve found himself the recipient of an askance look, as if Tony knew that Steve knew.

Before Steve could get antsy over the awkwardness of a silence that went on two beats too long, Tony smoothed it out.

"So, those... mecha, they're out of commission, then?"

"So says Freeman and Grynch. Wanda's hexes and Clint's arrows helped too."

"And Clint?"

"We'll speak later."

"Clint's been wanting leadership in the field, Cap." Tony continued, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"I know. He's lead before."

"But not with you on the team. It's different."

"We'll talk."

"Hmmm," Tony's voice was thoughtful, as he raised his linked fingers to his chin. "I do hope the defence department retires those models."

"Yes," Steve began, unsure how to go about this. "Do you remember... any thing else in the field?"

Tony shifted his eyes to meet Steve's. "In terms of?" he said, his voice steady and strong.

"Anything."

"Are you debriefing me Cap?" Tony was curious now, twisting his body to face Steve.

"No, no," Steve shook his head, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Nothing so formal. You were just... rambling."

"Not reminiscing about being drunk, I hope?"

_If only_, Steve thought. "No," he said.

"Stark secrets?"

Steve searched his features for some sort of discomfort, for some sort of recognition of that moment, when Tony's eyes blazed with the surety, when he... added one more complication in the equation that was Tony Stark.

"No," Steve said, torn between relief and the sticky weight of guilt. "Your secrets are safe."

"So I just... rambled?" Tony's voice was genial, almost amused, as if he were asked to participate in a child's trick.

Steve rested his hands on his thighs, bracing himself for the conversation ahead, the sheer awkwardness of it. But if Tony didn't remember...

Probably, that was a good thing.

Considering that he had already searched his heart, and could find no room for _this_ Tony in there. Poked at his beliefs, and found them unmoved. Noted the aesthetics of Tony Stark: the mobile mouth that was quick to smile, the striking colouring of dark hair and stormy blue eyes. Lean, liquid grace, whip smart and movie star handsome.

The attitude of a man who wore power easily, yet bright enough to question it.

But Steve's body didn't respond. His heart did not hitch, his blood did not surge at the thought of Tony looking at him with dark intent. Tony Stark was just... Tony Stark.

A very good friend, a man who possessed a big heart, and was as generous as he was brilliant.

A man he was proud to call friend and Steve needed no more than that.

_I'm sorry_ -

At least, Steve thought, as he took in Tony's profile, at least he did not have to let Tony down easy. That sort of kindness that would only come off as pity at best, corrosive at worst.

"Yes," Steve said, telling himself it was not a lie. "You just rambled."

"All right, then." Tony gave a slow nod, his eyes shifting to Steve's. His tone was reasonable, accepting.

"As long as I wasn't mind controlled..."

At Tony's brilliant grin, Steve's mind quickly flicked through snapshots of memories.

-A blur, bright lights, four shadows.

-First sighting of clunky golden iron suit, then later, the tycoon Tony Stark himself. Steve not yet realising that both were the same.

-First sparring lesson, with Tony wearing a suit worth enough to buy Steve's parents out of poverty.

-Tony at his lowest point, in a flop house, bottle in hand. Reeking of alcohol and self loathing.

-Ironman, with hand on shoulder consoling him, yet firmly telling him to get a life.

-Heated disagreements, both tempers at flash point.

-The times when they buried the hatchet over various disagreements. Be it by cliffs overlooking the water, or a shared meal.

 

Tony Stark had been one of the few constants of his second life. Along with Sam Wilson, duty to country and its flag.

No, there was no event that stood out, nothing sparking into 'more' from either side. No, he was still Tony Stark. A man well suited (too well suited at times) to the worlds he inhabited.

"It's getting late," Steve said, pushing himself off the chair. "Do you need anything? Ms Potts sent some paperwork over. I would have brought it down, but Jarvis threatened me with culinary harm."

"It's always the quiet ones."

"Yeah," Steve chuckled as he moved, only for Tony to lean forward, and Steve felt the warm weight of Tony's hand on his forearm, heard him say, "Steve, wait."

"Tony?"

"Steve." Tony began, titling his face to look up at Steve, and Steve, not wanting to cause Tony any unnecessary discomfort, sat down.

"Tony."

"I don't know what I said back there," Tony began. "But it's -"

"You-"

"Whatever I said back there, it's my responsibility, not yours. Don't think about it."

"Tony-"

"What's falling on another grenade between friends?"

Steve opened his mouth to speak, to try and offer _something_ but nothing came out, so he shut it. Tony's face was a bit flushed, probably from this moment, probably from discomfort.

Something in Tony's eyes became warmer, softer, and then the moment was gone.

That's when Steve knew that the subject would never be brought up again. For a moment, an odd mixture of humility and resentment churned in his gut.

Tony might have sensed Steve's unease, as he dropped his hand, before leaning back in the comfort of his pillows, his personality now filled with rakish charm and wily humour.

"Give Clint a thrill," Tony said with a smile. "If he wants to lead again, tell him that it's three out of five falls."

Steve laughed, more out of relief than anything else. They would get past this, he knew. They would get on even footing again, because that was what they did.

Tony raised a hand to his mouth to cover his yawn. "Sorry," he apologised. "My painkiller's kicking in."

It was a lifeline. Steve grabbed on and held it. Tightly.

"I need a word with Clint anyway." Steve shifted his weight to the edge of the chair. "I'll look in on you later, or tomorrow."

"Three out of five falls."

"Not even for you, Tony. Being a team leader is much more than fisticuffs." Steve gave him a short, sharp pat on the thigh. "I'll send Jarvis down in a few minutes."

"You're no fun, Rogers," the words were slurred. "I don't know why we put up with you."

Then, without ceremony, Tony closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

Steve leaned over to turn off the overhead lights. There was ambient light courtesy of the recessed lighting along key areas of the room, keeping it in a sort of semi darkness. At least the lights would be off Tony's face and he could rest in relative comfort.

For the next five minutes Steve sat there, just absorbing, shifting through his thoughts. Steve might have stayed a while longer, before he remembered Clint and the words they were supposed to have. He did feel guilty leaving Tony there, but only a bit, because Tony Stark understood the demands of duty.

Steve got to his feet and slowly made his way to the door, and turned to look at Tony. He was still sleeping, his hands still on the sheets. Then, he looked away.

Steve pushed all thoughts of Tony from his mind - he'd dwell on them later, and steeled himself for words with his recalcitrant team mate.

Tony might have a point about the three out of five falls crack after all.

 

Fin.


End file.
